


Death after Dinner

by Mycroffed



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, I added my source, M/M, The first part is historically accurate, the second part isn't, this is a present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:58:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroffed/pseuds/Mycroffed
Summary: June 1701.Philippe and his son are invited to the Château de Marly by Louis to spend some time together. However, the King always has an ulterior motive.





	Death after Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make this as historically accurate as I could, but I only succeeded in that for the first part. Everything after is my own artistic freedom with real life events.
> 
> I have found a decent source that tells the tale in a completely historically correct manner, I'll add it in the end notes.
> 
> This was written as a present for one of my friends, since she 'hates me'. I love her very much as well.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

After all these years, Louis was still a hypocrite. Monsieur had no idea why he was still surprised about this, yet time and time again, he had this exact thought. As he drove away from the Château de Marly in his carriage, he once again went over the events of the evening that had passed.

His brother had invited him to dine together, as they used to do every day when the two of them still lived in Versailles, when they projected the illusion of brothers who could actually get along pretty well. At his arrival, he had naively thought that his brother genuinely wanted to spend some time with him and his son, Chartres.

The two stepped out of the carriage in a surprising good mood as they were ushered inside by multiple servants. Philippe glanced around for Bontemps, since this château was mostly his responsibility, but the man wasn’t there to welcome him. He was probably inside, Monsieur thought, as he turned towards his son with a smile.

“Time to face the lion.” He said quietly, before starting to make his way inside the building. At the age of sixty he no longer cut the same figure he had when he had still been commander in his brother’s army, but that didn’t mean that his stride had gotten any smaller. His son was able to keep up with him, of course, being so much younger than he was, and so the to Bourbons strode into the dining room side by side.

It was a relatively modest event, with only Louis and a couple of servants present besides Philippe and Chartres. This should have been the first red flag of the entire evening, but Monsieur was convinced that this was an innocent event. After all, either of the two brothers could quite literally drop dead the next day, so they should take every chance they had to spend some time together.

“Ah, brother, nephew. Welcome.” Louis got up and walked over to the two newcomers, a smile spreading across his face.

He had gotten old since the last time he had seen him, Philippe quickly decided, before forcing his own smile. “Always a pleasure to see you again, brother.”

“Please, sit. I have a few things I would like to discus before we start eating.” The three of them remained standing in the salon that they had been guided to. They wouldn’t be taken to the actual dining room until dinner was served. “So how is the Chevalier doing?” Louis tried to make the question sound as nonchalant as possible, but since there was no love lost between the Chevalier and the King, Monsieur was very aware that this was only a step-up to another question he would like even less.

“He is doing well, brother. He has remained with my wife in Saint-Cloud, since your invitation was only for my and my son.” Philippe glanced at Chartres, trying to signal to him that he would need to be careful once the questions were turned towards him.

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.” The king remained quiet for a few seconds, before speaking up again. “And you, nephew, do you have any mistresses that you like to spend time with, even though you’re married to my daughter?”

Philippe’s nostrils flared at the accusation behind that question and immediately spoke up, not even allowing his son to defend himself. “That is none of your business, Louis. Don’t answer that question, son. He has absolutely no right to ask.”

“I have _every_ right to ask, he’s married to my _daughter_.” Louis managed to keep his temper under control, something that Philippe couldn’t manage. “He is supposed to remain loyal to her, not fuck some local _whore_.”

“Don’t call her that!” Chartres raised his voice as well, the temper that ran through Monsieur very clearly present with the younger duke de Chartres as well. “Mademoiselle de Séry is anything but a whore.”

“Besides, _brother dear_ —” Monsieur’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “—I remember a period of your life when you were married and still went around fucking people, including _my own wife._ ”

Louis managed to look sufficiently embarrassed at the reminder and the comparison between him and his nephew.

Philippe, however, wasn’t done just yet. “And where are those favours that you have promised him for marrying your daughter? Or have you forgotten those as well, _accidentally_? It’s been sixteen years and yet we are still waiting.”

“Brother—” Louis tried to defuse the situation, but it was already too late.

“Don’t you _brother_ me, Louis. I have put up with you for so long, but no longer! You will offer your apologies to my son and then give him what is rightfully his.” Monsieur was getting surprisingly worked-up about this, his heart beating faster than was probably healthy at his age. However, Philippe found himself not caring at all. He could drop dead right now and be happy that he defended his son to get what he deserved.

“That is no tone to address your king—”

Louis had allowed himself to get as worked-up as his brother, ready to start one of their infamous arguments that he would win, no doubt, but before he could formulate another sentence, Bontemps walked into the room and cleared his throat.

“Your Majesty, your highnesses. Dinner is served.”

The two brothers glared at each other, but decided that, for the sake of dinner, they should remain civil to each other. In no way was this event forgotten, nor forgiven, but it was paused. The rest of the evening was spend in a tense comradery, though not many words were exchanged. The second that he could, Philippe had gotten up from his chair and announced that he was returning home, to where his wife and lover were waiting for him.

His son followed him, of course, leaving Louis to enjoy his fine alcoholic beverages on his own.

 

\--~--

 

Once back at home, he was immediately greeted by the Chevalier, who rushed towards him the second he set foot inside his own château. The sight of his life-long companion brought a smile to his face again, one that had been absent all evening. Sensing that something was wrong, the other Philippe wrapped an arm around his prince.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my darling?” He asked, fully aware that the answer would be ‘no’.

The snort that he got in reply said more than any word could have and Monsieur was very much aware of it. “He had the gut to tell my son off for having a mistress. Of course, I pointed out to him that there was a period of his life that he lived the same life and that he had even slept with _my wife_.”

“I am sure that you defended him well, my love.” The Chevalier purred in his ear, before gently starting to guide him towards their bedroom.

Monsieur knew very well what his lover was trying to do – he was trying to get him to relax, to calm down – but he was in no way interested having sex. Age had caught up with both of them and while he still adored his lover, spending the night together in another way than simply enjoying each other’s company had become more and more rare.

“Where is Liselotte?” Those three words were still enough to spark a bit of jealousy inside the Chevalier, no matter how well they all seemed to get along now. It was quite visible on the man’s face, because Philippe’s voice immediately softened as he sent his lover a very _fond_ look. “Don’t look at my like that. I merely wished to discus something about our son.”

“Oh.” There was a hint of a blush on the Chevalier’s face, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to stand out an awful lot. “She is in the salon, writing a letter to someone.”

“Shall we pay her a visit?”

After a nod from de Lorraine, the two men made their way towards the salon in question, where they engaged in a rather interesting discussion. Since it was already late, it didn’t last too long, and soon the three parties split up and went their own way. Liselotte returned to her own rooms, while the two Philippes returned to their own bed.

 

\--~--

 

The next morning, Philippe woke up early. Taking a deep breath, he pecked his sleeping lover’s shoulder before getting out of bed. He had promised his son that he would go hunting with him, even though he didn’t like that in the least. However, he was a man of his word, so he ordered one of his servants to get him dressed.

They had to stop at one point, when a wave of dizziness hit him, but it passed fast enough that Philippe dismissed it as having had nothing to eat yet. He ordered some macarons to be brought to his rooms, as well as his son, since he wanted to talk to him before the two of them actually left for the hunt.

Nothing appeared to be wrong – Philippe spent the time waiting staring at his lover in the mirror, the softest of smiles around his lips – until his son walked in. He tried to turn his head to look at him, but his muscles didn’t seem to want to cooperate, so he simply turned, spreading his arms in order to hug him. As he stepped forward, however, he stumbled over his own feel, collapsing against him.

Chartres, worried that his father might have hurt himself, called out for a doctor as he gently guided his father to the ground.

“I’m fine.” Philippe’s word appeared slurred, though he hadn’t had anything to drink just yet.

“Chevalier!” More worry was now settling in the son’s stomach and he knew that his father would want to see his lover in this state, even if he didn’t realise what exactly was happening.

Monsieur’s lover didn’t move straight away, though he did share a mumble with the inhabitants of the room. “I’ll be up momentarily, Philippe. Just a few more minutes.”

“No, Chevalier, _now_. I think something’s wrong with father.” As he looked at him, he could see not only the eyelids drooping, but Philippe’s attention seemed to be anywhere but with the man holding him.

It only took a few seconds for the Chevalier to jump out of bed, scarcely clad, and kneeling right next to his lover. After pressing a soft kiss to the prince’s forehead, he ran a hand across the man’s cheek, watching as that light that signified that his love was there disappeared from his eyes.

“Philippe?” He asked, his voice breaking as he realised what was going on. The body in his arms still seemed to be moving, but the Chevalier wasn’t sure if that was because he was moving it accidentally while not meaning to or if he was still breathing, if there was still _hope._ “Philippe, answer me, mignonette.”

There was absolutely no reaction.

“Please…”

 

\--~--

 

By the time that Liselotte made her way to the room, she was greeted by a sobbing Chevalier, holding a dead Philippe in his arms, flanked by their son.

She knew immediately that it was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never done as much research for a one-off as I have for this one, but aside from wikipedia, there's only one source that I actually valued:
> 
>  
> 
> [This one.](http://partylike1660.com/the-death-of-philippe-de-france-duc-dorleans/)
> 
>  
> 
> Please give it a read, it's well written and more correct than I wanted to write it.


End file.
